Ficlet: Blues They Mustn't Show
Yet more angst...
Title: Blues They Mustn't Show
Author: eviltwin
Fandoms: Flashpoint
Pairing/Characters: Greg & Wordy.
Rating: Gen. Friendship, more than anything.
Wordcount: 500.
Summary: Prompt : #6 - Shelter. Wordy has a shitty day. I really need to stop writing angst. Truly. Title from Buddy Holly's Raining In My Heart.
Disclaimer: None of the following is true in any way, and no profit is made from this work of fiction.
It's possible that Wordy didn't know the meaning of the word 'downpour' until tonight. He's in jeans, grey shirt, soft leather jacket. His jeans are soaked and weighty on his legs and he's standing under a bus shelter, shivering, waiting for the rain to stop so that he can walk the five blocks back to HQ where he left his car at the end of shift. He doesn't know quite where he'll go or what he'll do after that. A car veers from the flow of traffic and comes to a halt nearby and he sees the passenger's window roll down. He looks away.
"Wordy, c'mon. Are you really going to do this?"
His shoulders slump and he closes his eyes. Of course he isn't. It's just that his heart is too heavy right now and he wants to walk until he forgets. He takes a step away from the cover he's under and takes a step closer to the car and to Greg. He's dripping, quite literally, and he can feel rain running under his collar, down the back of his shirt. It makes him feel squirmy, but he stays still as he plants a hand on the top of the car and leans down to the window.
"Bad day, huh?" Greg asks, across the empty seat, eyes searching Wordy's face.
"The worst," Wordy answers.
"You want to get in?"
"I'm good."
"You're drenched. Get in, I can take you back to HQ, you can get some dry clothes. Or back to mine," he adds, at the look on Wordy's face. Greg smiles. Wordy can see the years of sadness behind it, but doesn't mention it. "Don't you just hate it when the weather reflects your mood?"
Wordy looks away again, down the street, and smacks his hand down against the roof of Greg's car. "Shouldn't have happened the way it did," he says. "It wasn't fair."
He expects Greg to remind him that life isn't fair, but he is spared the platitudes. Instead, Greg reaches across and pulls the handle, opening the door. "Get in." There's a note in his voice that suggests Wordy shouldn't argue, but just in case he's thinking about it Greg continues, "I'm not going to ask again."
Wordy pulls the door further open and gets into the car, sitting carefully in the passenger seat. He can feel the damp spreading out into the fabric of the seat beneath him and he ducks forward and grimaces. "Sorry," he says. "I'm ruining your car."
"If I cared about that then I'd have left you out in the storm." Greg doesn't pull away from the curb just yet. He reaches across and sets a hand to the back of Wordy's neck, rubs it soothingly. "My place? You can take a shower, dry off, get a beer with me. We can talk about it."
Wordy nods. He needs something. He pulls his seatbelt across and fastens it and he feels glad to be out of the rain.
end
Title: Blues They Mustn't Show
Author: eviltwin
Fandoms: Flashpoint
Pairing/Characters: Greg & Wordy.
Rating: Gen. Friendship, more than anything.
Wordcount: 500.
Summary: Prompt : #6 - Shelter. Wordy has a shitty day. I really need to stop writing angst. Truly. Title from Buddy Holly's Raining In My Heart.
Disclaimer: None of the following is true in any way, and no profit is made from this work of fiction.
It's possible that Wordy didn't know the meaning of the word 'downpour' until tonight. He's in jeans, grey shirt, soft leather jacket. His jeans are soaked and weighty on his legs and he's standing under a bus shelter, shivering, waiting for the rain to stop so that he can walk the five blocks back to HQ where he left his car at the end of shift. He doesn't know quite where he'll go or what he'll do after that. A car veers from the flow of traffic and comes to a halt nearby and he sees the passenger's window roll down. He looks away.
"Wordy, c'mon. Are you really going to do this?"
His shoulders slump and he closes his eyes. Of course he isn't. It's just that his heart is too heavy right now and he wants to walk until he forgets. He takes a step away from the cover he's under and takes a step closer to the car and to Greg. He's dripping, quite literally, and he can feel rain running under his collar, down the back of his shirt. It makes him feel squirmy, but he stays still as he plants a hand on the top of the car and leans down to the window.
"Bad day, huh?" Greg asks, across the empty seat, eyes searching Wordy's face.
"The worst," Wordy answers.
"You want to get in?"
"I'm good."
"You're drenched. Get in, I can take you back to HQ, you can get some dry clothes. Or back to mine," he adds, at the look on Wordy's face. Greg smiles. Wordy can see the years of sadness behind it, but doesn't mention it. "Don't you just hate it when the weather reflects your mood?"
Wordy looks away again, down the street, and smacks his hand down against the roof of Greg's car. "Shouldn't have happened the way it did," he says. "It wasn't fair."
He expects Greg to remind him that life isn't fair, but he is spared the platitudes. Instead, Greg reaches across and pulls the handle, opening the door. "Get in." There's a note in his voice that suggests Wordy shouldn't argue, but just in case he's thinking about it Greg continues, "I'm not going to ask again."
Wordy pulls the door further open and gets into the car, sitting carefully in the passenger seat. He can feel the damp spreading out into the fabric of the seat beneath him and he ducks forward and grimaces. "Sorry," he says. "I'm ruining your car."
"If I cared about that then I'd have left you out in the storm." Greg doesn't pull away from the curb just yet. He reaches across and sets a hand to the back of Wordy's neck, rubs it soothingly. "My place? You can take a shower, dry off, get a beer with me. We can talk about it."
Wordy nods. He needs something. He pulls his seatbelt across and fastens it and he feels glad to be out of the rain.
end